The Edge
by Anorwenne
Summary: Many years ago he fled Coruscant in a desperate attempt to forget. But the Force has its own ways. When a former Jedi apprentice crashes down on a forsaken planet, will the two find a way to return - and to survive? WIP with the second half of the story already written.
1. Chapter 1 Horizons

_This story can no longer gather dust on my PC._

 _Dedication: To everyone out there writing great and inspirational things in the fandom. Your glory is the joy of your readers._

 _All general disclaimers of "I don't own the characters, etc." apply._

 **Chapter 1. Horizons**

Huge orange half of the planet's second sun was hanging in the sky like a slice of orange steeped in hot tea. The sky, tinged with pink and gold, was serene and empty, as empty as the space around him, but lacking this ever-present hollowness that had long before taken root in his heart. He leaned back, revelling in the coolness of shadows, feeling the roughness of the tree trunk. How many years… He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, counting. Seventeen? Twenty? No, twenty was far too much. He was young back then, rash, eager to break the rules suffocating him, so impatient to break free and float on his own in the great ocean of life. So he broke away, to be with _her_ , because there could be no life without her. Or so he thought. There is no death, there is the Force… He left to be with her only to lose the only one he loved. He survived, pointless as the life awaiting him was. And somehow the Force willed him to breathe, when nothing else remained for him. He was alone, no good for anyone, drifting without any destiny, in utter peace and nearly ominous quiet. Maybe even the Force looked upon him as if he was its lost cause. Maybe he was waiting for something to happen. But the little planet turned around day after day and he lived on. Freedom…

A sound remotely similar to laugh burst from his lips, quiet and mirthless. Freedom. Peace. That's what he wanted once. He gazed at the setting slice of the sun, immersing himself deeper in his meditation. The horizon was still and empty as always, but it was waiting for something. Something was coming, its forefeeling beating like a faint pulse in the back of his mind.

The room was darkening, lights from the outside sneaking into its confines through the transparisteel, and a small figure leaning heavily on the window sill looked like a carved silhouette against the mild colours of the landscape. Coruscanti sky, abuzz with life, hurry and eternal movement, sparkling with lights of flying vehicles, has always had a calming effect upon Obi-Wan. There was no emotion, only constant streams of traffic busy with something other than thoughts. Unlike himself, he sighed. So much for serenity. As soon as he would turn, the fleeting moment of peace would dissolve in the torrents ravaging his mind.

Five years. He was eighteen now. Five completed, more to go. How much more, that was the question. Ever since his thirteenth birthday, his first day as a Padawan, his life became a fight for survival. Sometimes, when he couldn't fight anymore, just survival, plain and simple. Get through this day. Stagger to his room. Get cleaned up. Get used to pain. Put on a brave face and squeeze out a smile for Bant, Reeft and Garen. Force himself to eat. Meditate. Drag his body into bed. Survive the night, that is manage to fall asleep and be silent whatever the dreams may bring.

Survive. Obi-Wan took a breath, perhaps too deep, and winced as his ribs protested. Yes, the task wasn't going to be simple. He stretched his shoulders, a soft hiss escaping his lips, walked to his bed and crawled under the covers. Tomorrow would be another day. Somehow this thought didn't sound comforting.

– Well, my now not-so-little padawan, I must say you do my work credit, but you surely already now that.

– Thank you, Master. – Obi-Wan didn't see the face of the speaker, trying to steady his breathing and making all the efforts possible not to wipe sweat from his face. Di'el Rhad was… demanding, for the lack of a better word.

His hand came to rest on the chin of the young apprentice, and Rhad tilted the teenager's head, forcing Obi-Wan to look at him.

– So obedient. But you cannot rise yet. I am not finished with our little… chat. – Rhad drawled lazily, almost tenderly stroking the padawan's face. – Do you remember what day it is? Five years ago…. Oh, I remember it so well. So scared… So worried. No-no-no, look at me, I want to admire the change, - the master purred, his voice nearly a whisper. – So much has changed. So much is about to change, isn't it, my little padawan? But I am speaking in riddles. The mind of an apprentice should be plain, so I'll make it clearer to you. Let's turn to our… proposal. I hope you have been giving it sufficient thought.

A rush of cold hit Obi-Wan in the pit of the stomach. Of course. If he wasn't already on his knees, he would have probably staggered at the realization.

–Oh, I take it that you have. That is to be commended, my little padawan. And what say you?

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, bracing himself and frantically looking for an answer.

– You have learned a lot. Wouldn't it be a pity to let it all go to waste? With your potential and… this passionate desire of yours to become a Knight. We should move further, and for that little development a… strengthening of our bond is required, – the man bent down, patting his apprentice's cheek. –Let's now hear what you have to say.

– Master, I…

– Or maybe we shall give you a little bit of time and incentive. Life is dull without deadlines, huh? –Rhad chuckled amiably. – But on the other hand, we have waited enough. What do you think of… tomorrow? After all, the whole beginning procedure is quite simple. All I need is your oath, your lightsaber and someone I will bring to test your determination. One life. Nothing binds as tight as blood, now does it? So tomorrow it is.

– Yes, Master, – his throat constricted but he managed to steady his voice, and when his master nodded, Obi-Wan got up, his legs dangerously wobbling, and rushed to the door.

– Just a little reminder, though, – the voice stopped him in his tracks before he could place his hand on the pad. – You cannot become anything without a master. Nobody wanted to take you, remember? I was your only hope. But this hasn't changed much, has it? I am still your only hope.

The whisper chilled Obi-Wan's bones as understanding crept on him.

– That's right. The choice is that simple. You must decide if you want to keep this pretty little thing. – Rhad tugged at the padawan's braid, his breath ghosting on the boy's cheek. – Now go, if you still think there is anything for you to consider.

Water was always pleasant. It washed away the day, the grime, _his_ scent. Not the darkness, however, nor the pain. Obi-Wan gingerly washed the burn on his arm where Master Rhad's lightsaber nicked it during sparring. He always did better in the training hall with the droids, there the Force was alive and vibrant, responding eagerly and encouraging every movement. In the presence of Rhad he always seemed to suffocate. Wisps of darkness crept out of nowhere, clouding his mind, tormenting his very being. What Obi-Wan would have done never to hear this taunting voice, never to kneel, never to wake up swallowing his screams to avoid the punishment. But this, as Rhad had so accurately put it, was his only hope.

Five years ago Master Yoda refused several Masters who desired to take Obi-Wan as their padawan, waiting for Qui-Gon, the one he considered the perfect match for the talented boy, to overcome the shadows of his past and accept a new apprentice. But when the perfect master made it clear he would not, Obi-Wan finally faced the harsh reality: he would be alone, unchosen, sent away, a reject condemned to lifetime with the Agri-Corps. But he couldn't do that. The Force was sure of it. He could feel it himself. So when Rhad, strict but ambitious, offered to take him, he didn't even pay much attention to the condition attached to the offer. "We'll think about it in time, my little padawan".

He almost forgot it. But Rhad haven't.

Obi-Wan clutched the sink, his knuckles going white. The mirror, cloudy from the steam, showed only the outline of a dim figure. He was glad, he didn't want to look into his own face. He didn't have a choice, really. He couldn't. The Council didn't believe him two years ago, why should it now? He truly had nowhere to go, nobody to ask for help.

He needed to survive the next day. Maybe, just maybe, Rhad will wait. Maybe he wasn't really going to do this. If not…

Obi-Wan dried his hair quickly, got dressed and walked down the corridor. If not... He couldn't think about that.

– Ever planning on actually eating that?

Obi-Wan started at Reeft's words, realizing that despite his best efforts he'd somehow managed to get lost in thoughts. He'd been trying to conceal from his friends the heavy weight pressing his heart to the ground. This evening was supposed to become a memory to cherish, not an interrogation session held by the concerned trio.

– I'm not sure, but I suppose you are, – Obi-Wan smiled, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind and sealing them there.

– You know he always is, Obi. The question is when you're going to grant an easy death to that steak and stop pushing it around, – Obi-Wan didn't like the look Bant was giving him and resolved to finish his meal to avoid confrontation.

– Here. Thanks to Steak Rights Champion Bant Eerin, – he victoriously gestured at his empty plate, chewing the remnants of his dinner. – Should we go?

The crowd in the canteen began to dissipate, and the lack of usual noise was grating at Obi-Wan's already taut nerves.

– An excellent suggestion. Otherwise someone may be planning on finishing off whatever's left in this place, – Garen stood from the table, taking his tray, poking Reeft in the ribs with his elbow and swiftly disappearing to avoid the playful punch from the latter. The rest of them followed suit.

The four friends were walking slowly along the Temple corridors. Glowing warm lights of the evening were flowing through the windows, and the space basked in serenity and quiet beauty of the day coming to its end.

– Just imagine, we're finally together. Nobody off-world or slacking off, – Bant pointedly looked at Obi-Wan, who tried to play the offended one.

– Me? Are you kidding? I'm practically never off-world.

– Yeah, but with that Rhad of yours you're off limits.

– On here and now concentrate, you should, – Garen chimed in, seeing the fleeting expression of pain on Obi-Wan's face, and the four laughed, the conversation swiftly turning from the sensitive topic to their favourite subject of jokes.

They walked together a while more until it was time to retire to their masters' quarters.

– Alright, guys, it was great seeing you. We could meet up again if tomorrow everyone's still here, – smiled Garen.

– Yeah, – said Reeft. – Great time. Good night, guys.

Garen squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder, and the two left, disappearing in the dim light of the Temple.

Obi-Wan's quarters were the same way as Bant's, so t he friends often accompanied each other.

– Would you come tomorrow? – the Mon Calamarian asked, giving him a concerned look.

– The main condition is for Garen to be here, – Obi-Wan tried to avoid the abandoned topic of him and his master but suspected it would still resurface.

– Oh come on, I'm speaking about you. You should really talk some sense into that guy.

– Garen?

– You know who I'm talking about.

– "On here and now concentrate, you should". He's right, you know.

– Not make fun of this, _you_ should, unless a kick on the shin, you wish, – surprisingly, Bant rolled her eyes, distracted from the subject and barely keeping herself from giggling.

– Heard that, I did, –a voice spoke behind them, but the pleasant tones suggested there was no way this could be Master Yoda.

– Good evening, Master Tahl. I was just escorting Lady Bant here home, – Obi-Wan smiled in half-jesting courtesy, yelping when he received the jab in the ribs from his friend.

– Oh, I'm sure the Lady must be flattered, she just won't show her appreciation, – Tahl smiled, ignoring her padawan's salmon skin becoming a little closer to crimson. – Isn't that what the etiquette must be about? – the green flecks were sparkling with humour in the honey-gold of the master's eyes.

– It sure is. Goodnight, Bant. Master, – bowing slightly to hide the chuckling fit blossoming in his chest at Tahl's deadpan, Obi-Wan turned to go when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

– Want to come in? If you'd like to take a little break before you go to sleep, you're welcome here, you know that.

– Oh, – Obi-Wan turned sharply, startled by Tahl's voice, –Oh, thank you, but I think I'll just go to sleep a bit earlier. – a wry smile appearing on his lips still couldn't stop them from trembling slightly.

– Is everything alright? – Yellow-green eyes burned with barely concealed worry, and Obi-Wan tried to shrug off that glance, turning away from its silent scrutiny. She knew, and even if she didn't, then for sure at least felt something – has felt it for the last five years. Obi-Wan noticed the way she looked at him, all these small gestures of comfort and sympathy, which did nothing substantial, but he held on to them, clutching desperately, as if it was a lifeline. Nothing could be changed, but this still gave him the strength to endure. Still, they both knew the real answer to the question, and what he said was exactly what Tahl expected. Take it or leave it. Stalemate.

– Yes, really, I'm fine.

But today something was different in her demeanour.

– There's something you sense, isn't it?

The youth's eyes widened in shock.

– I don't know what…

– I can feel it too, – she raised her hand silencing him. – Something… taking shape. No use to deny it. Doesn't do any good, – she sighed, looking at something behind him, beyond the comprehension of senses.

A few moments of silence barely hung in the air, as heavy as his heart. Then Tahl touched his cheek with her hand, visibly trying to compose herself and shrug off whatever premonition was weighing on her mind, but Obi-Wan could swear there was a strange watery glossiness in her eyes, like liquid gold pooling in a pond.

– Alright, enough dark thoughts for today. But, Obi-Wan… The Force will be with you. Always. Whatever, Just remember this.

– Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2 Shooting Stars

**Chapter 2. Shooting Stars**

It was still dark when Obi-Wan got up. The night passed in the usual half-sleep disturbed by terrifying dreams and thoughts bordering on nightmares. Their quarters were empty, nobody waiting for Obi-Wan to join at breakfast table. He got used to this quickly when Master Rhad took him as his padawan: the master was often away, in the mornings, in the evenings, and Obi-Wan even doubted he actually slept there at night. But Master Rhad never skipped their sparring practice or anything else "useful" to that matter.

At first Obi-Wan hoped to win his master's affection. However, the attitude he constantly felt towards him never seemed to change. Doubts came, creeping silently from the shadows, but Obi-Wan really couldn't understand what to make of Master Rhad's behaviour. He recognized the boy's achievements, his sharp glance sizing up the padawan, pushing him to his limits during training. Nothing personal. Whatever troubled Obi-Wan was his own to deal with. _You are alone, my little padawan. You should learn to accept this, otherwise…_

Obi-Wan shuddered at the recollection, rubbing absently the little burn scar on his forearm. His curriculum was "enriched" by Rhad who took upon himself to instil "obedience" and teach his apprentice a few more "valuable skills". _Tolerate the pain. It makes you strong. Feel this strength, my little padawan._

This went on day after day. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and struggled along, his friends became concerned since they practically never saw him. But he couldn't tell them. He couldn't do anything. The shadow of Bandomeer loomed over his head like an impenetrable shield of darkness. He remembered those days before his thirteenth birthday, the fear of being sent away, rejected, forsaken. He couldn't talk to anybody. _But you can, my little padawan. Farmer duties are also useful for our society._

And he wasn't so sure then. Rhad was difficult to understand, but never seemed evil. Even the Council had approved the apprenticeship. What if the suspicions were groundless? Obi-Wan couldn't risk this. He had to become a Jedi. There was no other destiny.

Obi-Wan got dressed, tucking the end of his braid behind his ear and letting it linger in his palm. It was no longer worth it. He wanted to be a Jedi, but Rhad seemed to have other plans for him. Of course, his master was careful never to say exactly what was required of him to continue the training. _Nothing binds as tight as blood does_. A sense of foreboding crept on him, an icy chill making its way down the youth's spine. Was Rhad… a Sith? Most importantly, was he, Obi-Wan, himself tainted by the Dark Side?

The Force was silent, waiting, biding its time; a cold comfort to Obi-Wan's tormented heart. He opened the door and went to the hall to meet his master. _The will of the Force_. So be it.

– I trust you slept well, my little padawan, – Rhad entered, greeting the kneeling apprentice. – And, I am sure, had sufficient time to… ah, _meditate_ on the further developments. I hope you have made the decision. And you should hope it is the right one. Look at me, my little padawan, – the gleaming eyes met the reluctant blue, Rhad's fingers toying with the padawan's braid. – Obi-Wan Kenobi, are you willing to continue your training as a padawan?

– Y-yes, master, but –

– And you understand what this requires.

– I do, Master.

Rhad smiled slowly, a strange light coming into his eyes.

– You please me, my little padawan. Such power… Such… determination to succeed, – having finished his circle around the kneeling teen, Rhad stood in front of him, his hand on the lightsaber hilt clipped to his belt. –Pledge yourself to me, my little padawan.

Obi-Wan stared at the black boots in front of him, his chest heaving at sudden exertion as he tried to make his vocal chords move.

– I… said… I do, Master. I do understand… the requirements of the Jedi code, – Obi-Wan blurted, doing his best not to flinch under the suddenly cold and merciless stare of Master Rhad.

– I see. I take it then that you wish to discuss this matter before the Council. I do believe they have the authority of this… theoretical interpretation.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, trying to still the imperceptible tremors in his limbs. So be it.

– I do.

– Very well.

Obi-Wan moved to rise and slammed back to his knees, barely avoiding the lightsaber blade hissing on inches away from his shoulder.

– So eager and fast, my little padawan, – Rhad chuckled. –I believe we have an unresolved matter between us, my now-former apprentice. Don't you think that the long way we've gone together deserves a little… parting ceremony?

The heat of the blade was nearly scorching the skin near Obi-Wan's temple and he didn't dare to breathe, gritting his teeth. But as a searing pain tore through him and the cloying scent of burnt hair and flesh hit his nostrils, he couldn't swallow his scream.

– Oh, hush, young one. You have made your choice, haven't you? – a cold hand caressed his cheek, wiping away the blood and stopping the liquid from seeping through the burn tissue. –Now up. On your feet, – Rhad commanded.

Obi-Wan rose, his fingers coming to grasp the thin air where his padawan's braid used to be. So be it. He had nothing more to lose.

– Masters. I do beg pardon for this interruption but the matter at hand is of the utmost urgency. Disobedience and insolence is a trait that by no means should be tolerated.

Obi-Wan stood beside his master, a strange fog clouding his senses. This couldn't be happening. It was a dream, a horrible reality of every night. His legs were shaking, his temple throbbing, and he desperately wished he was kneeling as he always did in his master's presence.

– Discipline so urgent to be, hold you? –Yoda's ears twitched as he gazed calmly at the master in front of him.

– Why do you consider this matter serious enough to be brought before the Council? –Mace interjected, always to the point.

– This is a matter I should have addressed long ago, Masters. However, my patience prevented me from dealing with it timely. In order not let this take up too much of your time, I would like to state my request. Herewith I release my padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.

A swiftly quelled tremor of surprise went through the Force. Obi-Wan's breath hitched in his chest. His braid was one matter. This… He would be exiled from the Temple, away from the only life he knew, from everyone and everything… If not… If not – the words resonated in the rhythm of his racing heart.

– A hasty decision, this should not be. Meditate on this, we all should.

– We should also hear what Padawan Kenobi has to say, – Mace pointed out, looking at the youth. – After all, you claim this to be a disciplinary action.

– This decision was not a hasty one, Master Yoda, and I believe it is mine to make.

– Severing the bond, this requires. Without the supervision of the Council, done this should not be.

– That is why it will be done with your supervision, Masters, – the tone was confident, lazy, almost mocking, and a hand touched Obi-Wan's temple as he squeezed his eyes shut in the attempt not to cry out. – Obi-Wan Kenobi, I release you as my padawan and dissolve the training bond connecting us.

– I believe we have made it clear you should wait, – Mace said menacingly, when an ear-splitting scream pierced the air, and Obi-Wan's body crashed to the floor, his back arching and limbs convulsing in agony, dark waves closing in around him, fragments of phrases floating there, carried around like debris.

– Get the healers here, quick.

– Padawan Kenobi, can you hear me?

– Master Rhad, what do you think you were doing?

–He's gone.

– Follow him, he can't have gone far away. Alert the Temple security.

– Padawan Kenobi, can you hear me?

– What is this burn? Where is his braid?

– Padawan Kenobi?

He couldn't answer. He couldn't think. His whole self was ripped apart by the blinding pain, his whole universe consumed by darkness. Not the blessed nothingness of unconsciousness, he welcomed it, he begged it to come but to no avail. Swirling shades of shadow enveloped him as he could only lay there, writhing and struggling against the hands.

– The entrances? Have you checked…

Voices were arguing, and, temporarily forgotten, Obi-Wan shakily got to his feet, ignoring the agony and the weakness. He made a few tentative steps and, slipping out of the hall, broke into a run. He ran, stumbling and getting up again, the Force lending him surprising strength, his legs taking him he knew not where. He couldn't stay here. He was alone. He had to escape, get out, forget everything. Run, another step, another. Breathe. Run. Get up. Run. Run.

Cool air met him, flowing into his burning lungs. A platform. A ramp. He didn't really know where he was going. Something was leading him, and he succumbed to its will, because it gave something he wished for: escape. Get away. Run. Get up. Run.

A little spaceship. A keyboard. A map. Nobody on board. His shaking fingers danced on the controls, punching the keys. Get away. Escape. All alone. Nothing left. Run. Mid Rim. Outer Rim. Location: –

Letters blurred in his eyes. The spacecraft whooshed, the lights flickering, its metal body flaring to life. Obi-Wan stumbled backwards, his back hitting a panel. He reached to the Force, but strength had left his hurting body, and his knees buckled as the world became black like the outer space behind the windows.

The planet of Aar, not long before merely a nameless rock close to the Outer Rim, only a number on the map, was going to sleep. So was its only human inhabitant. The sun had nearly set, its last rays low and cool. Tur got to his feet, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to quell the budding headache. The Force was taut, alert, its usual calm wiped away by waves of hidden anxiety brushing against his mind. Strangely, he enjoyed the sensation, a pleasant change from the incessant chain of empty uneventful days, spent in mourning, meditation and pushing his body around as if it was a piece of equipment. The planet bore traces of his past. So did his improvised cottage, which was the spacecraft that had carried him there. And Aar… They discovered it together, himself and… Mayte. A deserted little planet, where long ago an eruption scared the sparse population away. They came here once. _She_ sat by the stream, a blade of emerald grass between her teeth, the field awash with spring, green and gold like her eyes…

Tur shook his head. He didn't fight the memories. He didn't want to forget. Somewhere deep inside he hoped that the planet will grant his wish and take away this waste of an existence. But that was the only hope he had.

The sky was darkening, distant lights appearing above his head, no more than a glimpse of life somewhere else, far away. Stars didn't feel like a presence. Tur stood watching them impassively, like an onlooker at a party, peering through the window into a dazzling hall. Who cared? They came, always on time, following an intricate pattern of appearance as if they were characters in some play. They offered him no comfort. Even that little one moving among the others, brightening ever so slightly, unable to prevent its fall. Some cultures believed one should make a wish when they see a shooting star, as if they expected to rise when it plummeted down. A shooting star… Not even a star, just a little piece of rock going stellar as it burned, burned, burned.

And it hurt. For some unknown reason, Tur felt pain colouring the Force like droplets of blood dissolving in water. The bright spot was growing, and he felt a sudden urge to catch it as it fell, cradling it in his palms. The Force, which before was only sizzling softly, exploded in a roar of energy, its power raw and untamed. There was something small, something that let go, succumbed to the fiery abyss, hopeless and serene. Tur's eyes widened as the huge blazing object flew towards the planet surface.

It was no star.

He was running, hardly noticing the ground beneath his feet, snaky grass grasping at his ankles, its soft whiskers brushing his bare skin. And it was dark, the only light coming from somewhere above, except the blaze roaring in the distance, closer and closer to him, but for some unknown reason the road leading to it was still cast in shadow, the brightness ahead cold and unseeing. He was running desperately, with no recollection of the place of his departure or destination, the only thing his body could register was the shortness of breath, the sequence of inhalations and exhalations, the simple mechanical work of his lungs. It felt so good, this way of getting lost in space, in time, running, running…

The light ahead of him wavered, the ground moved, and he landed heavily on his arm, his head spinning at the sight of the mad dance of multi-coloured lights. Obi-Wan sluggishly turned his head, vaguely aware of the alarm signals on the monitors and the insistent beeping of the machines. He was hot, so hot, his chest heaving as if he still continued to run, but in fact he couldn't as much as move a finger. He was weary, worn out, and even though the Force urged him to go on, to fight, the battle suddenly lost all its sense. A velvet blackness was spreading over him like moss covering the bark of a dying tree, dry and suffocating as if it was made of cotton. Something was burning, stinging, but Obi-Wan's nerves had long gone to sleep, and the last wave covered his head as the deep waters claimed him, carrying him like a helpless piece of debris away from the coast, away from everything that had once hurt to a place where nothing ever could.

Gasping, Tur opened his eyes and found himself leaning on a tall rock, sweat dripping down his forehead. Flames were licking lazily at the crashed spacecraft, which was hardly a minute's run away. He lunged forward, attempting to shake away the feeling of futility, a rusty hopelessness, some force working against the efforts of its saviours, a plea for final peace. He was unwelcome.

Tur stopped for a second, gazing at the emerging flames, as if making a choice for himself and for – something? someone? – else. And as he sprang into action, tearing at the durasteel doors, working his way through the wreckage, dragging a small lifeless body into the high soft grass, back into life – it felt right, as if somehow it was exactly as it should be.


	3. Chapter 3 Discoveries

Chapter 3. Discoveries

Molten grayness gave in, dissolving into dust, and Obi-Wan jerked awake, fearing he had overslept and gritting his teeth to stifle a grunt as a cutting pain shot through his head. Blinking, he took several breaths, trying to concentrate and work out his surroundings. He was… on a ship? The place looked unfamiliar, though he couldn't be more glad to see no sign of Rhad. In times between his master's missions he could catch his breath and regain his strength, and if this was true now… But still how –

– Lie still. Don't aggravate your injuries, – a hand restrained Obi-Wan from sitting up in bed, and panic gripped him as soon as he heard the voice. He was on a mission, then, and getting injured would definitely make his master displeased. That meant further injuries – just for the sake of a lesson, and the padawan braced himself for whatever punishment his master would give. Yet the voice was different and so unlike Rhad's, a bit hoarse, as if rusty from lack of use. But the man crouching beside his bed didn't look like a Jedi healer either. Instead of robes he wore a simple outfit, dark linen pants and a tunic, worn, but neat, as it is common among travelers and mysterious people from the lower levels of Coruscant. His face looked relatively young, but hardened and roughened, barely displaying any emotion, though something lay hidden in his brown eyes, something strangers couldn't fathom.

– Staring is a better occupation, – the words startled Obi-Wan, and he did his best not to turn away, suddenly aware that his glance had been noticed.

– Sir, I-I'm sorry, I didn't –

– My pleasure as well, – murmured the man softly and absently, deft fingers wrapping around Obi-Wan's wrist, his eyes closing in silent concentration. – How are you feeling? Any pain?

Obi-Wan hesitated as his old instincts were kicking in, then shook his head, attempting to move as little as possible when his nerves blazed again and a sound of distress nearly made its way through his tightly clenched teeth. The stranger looked at him intently, and the youth did his best not to flinch.

– It isn't a game of hide-and-seek. You must tell me if anything hurts.

The youth took a deep breath, trying to relax, and with satisfaction felt the pain begin to slowly dissipate.

– Nothing, sir. Not now.

– Tell me if it does.

As the stranger stood up and began walking in the direction of the door, Obi-Wan realized that he wasn't told anything about his current predicament.

– Er… sir? Sir, where am I?

\- You should really stop calling me that, - the man muttered, sounding almost amused if not for the fathomless lack of emotions showing on his tired face. Obi-Wan felt incredibly awkward.

\- I'm sorry.

The stranger looked at him intently, as if sensing the incomprehensible fear which momentarily tightened against Obi-Wan's chest like a set of durasteel claws.

\- There is nothing to be sorry for. As to our whereabouts, we will not discuss this yet. - Obi-Wan's face fell and his desperate disappointment must have been so obvious that the man's voice almost sounded comforting. - You sustained a serious head injury, and for some reason you are awake well before you should be. Trying to remember won't do you any good.

Obi-Wan felt the lulling warmth of the sleep suggestion even before a hand settled on his forehead, making the gentle but firm pull towards the mesmerising unconsciousness irresistible. And he didn't want to resist - there was something about it that spoke of everything being alright again, of all worries dissolving, something peaceful and welcoming. But a split second before velvet darkness overtook him, he felt as if something almost imperceptibly stirred and moved, making a shudder run down his spine.

What he did not feel was a reflexive jolt, like a flame from a long dead and blackened coals licking the air, piercing the hand that lay on his forehead. But the hand held steady, firm and unwavering, as if accepting some unknown challenge from some phantom force.

When Obi-Wan awoke, the time of day looked suspiciously the same. He had slept at least an entire day, he guessed. Already. Obi-Wan gingerly sat up, looking over himself to determine his own condition. He could see the nearly healed burns on his legs and torso, the sleep had obviously helped the Force do the rest. That left the matter of where he was and what had happened.

The room eerily resembled a spacecraft cabin. Obi-Wan looked around, but apart from its apparent depreciation he couldn't detect anything that could give him an answer to his question.

The door to his room turned out to be not locked, which looked promising. However, disappointment awaited Obi-Wan outside, as the surroundings held all the timelessness of a galactic ship, which, for all he knew, could be floating peacefully in whatever unchartered territory it could possibly be. Obi-Wan was never too much interested in the common ship models favoured by the Jedi over the years, but he was quite certain that if Garen had a look at this, he would have placed this particular exhibit somewhere in a few decades' past. However, it was very much a Jedi ship - which meant that the obviously worn and used interior could likely be testimony to an even older age prolonged by constant care and attention.

The corridor was empty and eerily silent, with no sign of the usual buzzing and flickering of the various machines keeping the vessel alive. That was... disconcerting. The sense of something being not quite right was insistently nagging at the borders of his consciousness, but Obi-Wan dismissed it and moved forward, looking around with a strange detachment, trying to figure out something he should be, but somehow was not, wondering about.

The walls on both sides abruptly parted into a wide circular room that could have looked like a real spacecraft cabin if not for the obvious lack of electronic equipment except a blank monitor staring blindly into space with its dull grey screen. At the table Obi-Wan saw the man he had met when he first woke. The stranger, however, made no movement to acknowledge his presence (although it could not have gone unnoticed), seeming to be occupied with writing something in a plastibook, a bulky leaflet of thin synthetic sheets, old-fashioned even among the strictest Jedi traditionalists. Seconds passed with neither of them speaking. Feeling confused and out of place, Obi-Wan was suddenly overcome with the urge to say something, anything, to break this overwhelming, consuming silence.

\- Good... - he started with what had seemed an easy greeting only to realise the moment the words left his mouth that he could not really finish that sentence. Was it... morning? Afternoon? The deep of the night? What stardate could this be and what - a sharp pain flashed through his eyeballs, a brief but dire warning to stop -

\- If this is your ingenious way to trick out the Galaxy standard time from me before I deem you recovered enough to be up and about, I have to disappoint you. This is not going to work.

The voice cut through his short-circuiting consciousness, a welcome distraction pulling him out of his reverie, maybe too abruptly because he startled, drawing in his breath sharply like a drowning man who had just reached the water surface.

\- Or maybe you would have been less afraid of me if I had given you my name. I'm Tur. Tur Le'em.

The name did not sound familiar to Obi-Wan, but the lingering shadow of good-natured humour was so easy to imagine that he felt his uneasiness dissipate ever so slightly.

\- I... sorry, I didn't...When I woke up, I just wanted to see where I am, didn't mean to interrupt... and then -

\- I think that you have managed to apologize for all things possible in advance, - said Tur, standing from where he sat and rummaging several drawers. - So, I guess, we are done with apologies in the nearest future and you could give me your name. No curiosity, but they say patients respond better if... their identity is respected.

\- My... er - Obi. Obi-Wan, - he said, unsure of what to make of the stranger's (Tur's, he reminded himself - where in the Galaxy could he be from?) attempt at a joke. - I just wanted to ask... where we are.

\- All in due time, - Tur pushed the drawer closed with his knee and was arranging some settings on what looked like a very outdated datapad with sensors, something field healers used for diagnostics some years ago. - Please, have a seat. Oh, I guess they may not be making these anymore, huh? - The corner of his lip twitched ever so slightly as Tur caught Obi-Wan's suspicious glance at the gadget. - Makes me feel old but still useful. Now hold still. And no, this part I cannot do with the Force. The Force was somehow connected to your injury, I can't risk aggravating anything.

Obi-Wan found himself sitting on the couch beside the table as the sensorpad was hovering close to his [right] temple, Tur talking softly, but his brain did not seem to register it, so natural it all felt, until...

\- Obi-Wan? Can you hear me?

He started at the sound of Tur's voice his eyes going wide as he took in his surroundings, and the next second he shank back narrowly avoiding hitting the wall with his head, his hand coming up to shield himself from - and then, as quick as whatever imaginary scene his subconscious had painted materialised in his mind, it vanished, and Obi-Wan was face to face with a pair of worried green eyes.

\- W-what?

\- Did you really think I was going to hurt you? - Tur asked cautiously, the sensorpad still in his hand.

Desperately trying to hide the flush of embarrassment threatening to swallow him whole, Obi-Wan forced out what he thought could pass for a smile.

\- Sorry, I... don't know what came over me. I didn't think you would... - But he felt that Tur would hurt him, why wouldn't he, when he said: Can you hear me, my little padawan? Or did he -

\- Alright, let's leave this for now, - Tur gave the sensorpad a final glance before locking the screen and storing it away in the drawer which seemed to open and close the old-fashioned way. - Well, looks like I can allow you to wander the corridors today, after all...

\- What happened? - Obi-Wan blurted. - To me, I mean... you said something about - injury? What is this place? Why am I -

\- And that, - said Tur, his tone suddenly stern and serious - is something I was thinking you could shed some light on.

\- What do mean? - asked Obi-Wan, surprised at the sudden change in the host's demeanour. - I was just... I... was at the -

The line of thought stumbled, unexpectedly cut off as if it had hit an invisible bbarrier and Obi-Wan stopped, furrowing his brow in confusion.

\- Sorry, I... can't remember.

\- I can imagine that, - said Tur, watching him closely, as if gauging his reactions. - Question is if you can't or if you don't want to. Let me show you something, - Tur stood up, striding purposefully towards the open door. - Come on.

Their steps echoed in the lonely hallway, Obi-Wan trying to keep pace with the older man. As they approached a disaster door, he almost expected Tur to push it open but it disappeared into the wall with a familiar whoosh, and Obi-Wan froze, taken unawares by the sight in front of him. There had been no smooth flight on the autopilot. All this time, they had been on-planet. However, he did not have the slightest clue as to what exactly this planet could be. His thoughts leapt to the the long classes on planetology and the Universe, but the inconspicuous pale landscape in front of him could not tell him anything except the place being apparently suitable for living.

\- Where... is this? - he looked at Tur who was standing on some kind of grass covering the surface as far as the eye could see.

\- I could tell you, but I thought you could see that for yourself. Come on.

They walked for several minutes along the dusty grasses, the orange slice of the planet's sun hanging low over the horizon. And then Obi-Wan suddenly stopped in his tracks, almost feeling something before actually seeing it. A few steps ahead of them a blackened carcass of what looked like a crashed spacecraft stood out starkly against the dull colour of its surroundings. But this did not seem to look even remotely familiar.

\- What is this?

Tur approached the spacecraft's remains, eyeing Obi-Wan keenly.

\- Actually, I've been hoping you could tell me that, - he bent over the twisted frame, fishing out a sleek object which turned out to be a fragment of the navicomputer screen, the last data transmitted still frozen on it, apparently kept alive by the remaining reserve of the autonomous battery. - It shows here that the craft's last set destination was the planet of Aar, which, - he glanced at Obi-Wan, - by some surprising coincidence happens to be exactly where we are now.

Obi-Wan just stared right through the blackened object as Tur continued.

\- That doesn't ring any bells? Another thing it still says here is the urgent message that a very short while ago this same spacecraft was without any authorisation removed from the premises of the Jedi Temple.

A white-hot needle tore through Obi-Wan's consciousness and he gritted his teeth, swallowing the pain, trying to let it dissipate into the Force, but unable to stifle the gasp at the sudden onslaught of agony.

\- Obi-Wan? What's wrong? - the voice sounded very close but Obi-Wan had squeezed his eyes shut as if that could somehow help him, shield him from -

\- Obi-Wan, answer me! - strong hands gripped his shoulders, the last anchor to reality apart from the all-consuming fire in his head, piercing through his right temple. - Where does it hurt? Is it your head -

 _Answer me, my little padawan. Answer me_.

\- N-no, please! - Obi-Wan gasped. - No! I'm sorry, Mas-

Another wave of pain covered him, blinding and debilitating, depriving of all coherent tthought but he wanted to make it stop so he had to finish that plea, he had to - his knees folded after him automatically, partly to exhaustion, partly to a well-practiced movement, and the approaching ground was cool against his body.

\- M-mast-ter, sor-ry...

Obi-Wan vaguely heard a voice, asking him something, no, telling, even commanding - but whatever it was, he could no longer make his body obey. He was falling into a pitch-black void, reaching out to anything that could stop his descent which he suddenly dreaded, - but abruptly all his senses gave out like the lights on a navicomputer that has been turned off, and he knew no more.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Shadows

Tur Le'em blinked and shook his head as he caught himself staring in front of him as he sat on the floor beside the boy's bed. He had to concentrate. When four days ago he had pulled a body out of the burning crashed spacecraft, he did not believe at first that he would be able to help. The burns had been severe, but treatable, and his patient even woke up on the third day, although obviously still experiencing some discomfort.

Back then, when the worst was over, Tur did not really expect any complications. Except, maybe, a lecture on how to obey the adults, because upon closer examination, the spacecraft proved to be a Jedi vessel which the boy most certainly had no right to pilot. Tur might have thought that the accident had been a result of a mission gone wrong if not for the now-useless navicomp displayed the blaring message of alarm still screaming that the spacecraft was not flown by an authorised person.

As to the boy's identity, logic denied all possible ideas. He was definitely a Force user, that much was obvious. And the presence of a Force user in the Jedi Temple was not something unexpected. But the boy did not have a Padawan braid, was too old for an initiate and too young for a Knight. Unless he was an adept of the Dark Side trained by one of the solitary Sith admirers - but that was out of question, because the Force around the boy felt shining and clear and pure like water in the sunlight. Although something did not feel quite right.

That was lingering in the air even before Tur saw the falling spacecraft. That began taking shape when the boy woke up a day earlier than expected, still wincing in pain. And that became certain, the truth of it finally glaring into Tur's face, after the boy, instead of remembering the circumstances leading him to the desolate planet, slipped into some kind of a seizure, apparently in immense pain, after the mention of the Jedi Temple. And for some insanely long minute he twisted on the ground, begging Tur to stop this. And Tur could only grasp at him, trying in vain to understand the cause, helpless as the boy himself and utterly useless. The worst was that the boy did not make a sound, although the Force almost reverberated with pain.

And yet another mystery was that in his delirium, the boy called Tur his master.

The occupant of the bed stirred and shifted, bringing Tur out of his reverie. The youth opened his eyes slowly, looking in confusion at the ceiling, then turning his head to the side and noticing Tur.

\- How... long did I sleep? - Obi-Wan asked quietly.

\- You weren't asleep. You were unconscious, - Tur corrected sternly, stressing the last word. - And for that, I owe you an apology.

Obi-Wan looked at him, incomprehension clear in his eyes.

\- Me? For what?

\- When I led you to that ship, I was trying to trigger your memory. But trust me, I never imagined it would cause such a reaction in you. If I had the slightest idea... - Tur shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. - But that is no excuse. I should have thought about it. How are you feeling?

\- I'm fine, - Obi-Wan responded quickly, nearly automatically, embarrassed at his weakness. In truth, he was strangely exhausted despite having, so it seemed, slept for more than a night.

Surprisingly, Tur did not call him on his bluff but merely nodded briskly.

\- Good. That means you are well enough to eat. Follow me, - Tur rose and looked back at Obi-Wan after making a few steps in the direction of the door. - And put those on.

He made a sweeping gesture at what looked like old but clean outer robes lying at the feet of Obi-Wan's couch. The clothes were slightly big for him, obviously intended for someone like Tur who was taller and broader in shoulders, but Obi-Wan shrugged them on, grateful for the warmth they provided in addition to his tunic. When he was ready to go, he caught Tur's studying gaze, feeling uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny.

\- Did I... do something wrong?

Tur's eyes softened slightly.

\- No. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. It's just that you seem to look so natural in the Jedi robes.

Jedi.

What about it, my little Jedi?

The memory was so real and close Obi-Wan thought he could reach his arm and grab it, but he could as easily bite his own elbow.

\- W-what?

\- I shouldn't have said that. We are not going to trigger your memory until you are stronger and well-rested. And for that, you need to eat. Come.

The meal was awkward for many reasons, all of them competing with each other for the main role in the disruption of Obi-Wan's peace and quiet. One huge and unforeseen problem was that he was not eating alone. He had a distinct feeling that he had never dined with adults. And Tur was also a stranger, a complete mystery, which was making Obi-Wan's nervousness skyrocket. Appetite eluded him and he caught himself pushing what seemed to be some kind of vegetables around his plate.

\- I'm quite surprised you don't ask what it is you are eating. Considering we never really got to where we are.

Obi-Wan looked up, not expecting Tur to break the silence, as the older man continued.

\- These are native and unique for the planet of Aar. And the only reason I'm still not one with the Force, - he exhaled the last word in a semblance of a sarcastic half-laugh.

\- Why don't you... leave? Why do you stay here?

\- Why? - Tur cocked an eyebrow. - Oh, but I haven't yet showed you around, this place is absolutely exciting.

\- What.. system is this?

\- You will find Coruscant quite far.

\- Wh -, - Obi-Wan suddenly stopped, blushing in embarrassment. - Sorry - may I ask a question, sir?

Tur eyed him curiously.

\- If I disregard the one you have just asked, you have in fact asked a few already.

\- I'm sorry.

\- I guess we discussed the thing about apologising. And about the "sir". But of course, ask me what you want to know. After all, you have a right to know seeing as you are here.

\- I just wanted to ask... where you're going next.

\- Next? - Tur sounded amused at the wording.

\- I mean... this is a spacecraft. You cannot possibly live here, so I thought... you must be leaving -

\- You will be surprised, - Tur cut off his tirade softly, - that as a matter of fact, I do live here.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he nearly dropped his fork.

\- In here? But this... this in a space - , - and then his face fell at the sudden realisation. - Oh. You... did you crash here as well?

Tur sighed.

\- Listen, kid. I came here - to stay - many years ago. I am not planning to return. This 'craft isn't damaged, it just doesn't need to fly anymore. Not that I think it would carry anybody any far, after all these years.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, but coherent speech eluded him, the thoughts floating in disarray. What did he want to ask, or to hear in response? That he could leave this place, wherever it was, and return - where? When he could not even remember who he was and how he got here. Memories were hovering ever so close but no more than vague shadows, silhouettes, like shapes in the water covered by a thick layer of semi-transparent ice, and he could not make anything of them.

\- Alright, I see that this is a lot to take in, - Tur's voice called him back to reality. - Finish your meal and then you can rest -

\- No! - Obi-Wan cried out, only afterwards realising that he had interrupted his host. - Sorry. But please - please - I can... leave here? When I'm better? I could... ask someone to take me back -

\- Back where? - Tur asked. - For someone who cannot remember where he came from and why he is here, you look too certain you want to return. That being said, Aar is not inhabited. Hasn't been since hundreds of years ago. The only human settlement were research scientists, but since there turned out to be nothing to research... - Tur waved his hand dismissively.

\- Y-you are not... joking, are you? - stammered Obi-Wan.

Tur raised an eyebrow.

\- Do I look like a person who jokes?

\- Well... you do... sometimes...

\- If you are mistaking my sarcasm for jokes, I must really be getting old, - muttered Tur. - I am sorry. I could never joke about that.

\- But... how am I... getting back? - said Obi-Wan in a small voice, suddenly feeling lost and helpless.

\- Let's first find out where that "back" really is, - Tur responded, collecting his dishes and carrying them to what looked like an improvised sink. - From what I've seen you appear to have some kind of a memory block. And it seems to be somehow related to the Force. I may be able to try and find out its nature and its cause, but it will involve looking into your mind. I'm not going to risk attempting this today. And it is late in the evening. You should get a good night's rest before tomorrow.

Obi-Wan could have protested but he really felt sleepy, drained and no longer caring about anything but dragging himself to the bed, so he just nodded in response. He vaguely remembered how Tur walked with him to the bedroom - Obi-Wan's own bedroom, which strangely warmed him, - and he must have been already dreaming indeed because, surely, Tur could not have arranged his blanket, even less wish him good night, could he?

In the morning Obi-Wan felt refreshed, as if the yesterday's incident never happened. In the rays of the planet's first sun everything that had troubled him, including the loss of memory and the planet from which he saw no apparent way of escape, looked distant and pale, like mere shadows of old worries. He joined Tur in gathering vegetables and cooking breakfast, proving to be surprisingly apt at the task. For some reason it felt oddly comforting to attend to such simple tasks, almost mechanically and with the same calm and collected detachment as Tur did. They barely spoke, mostly due to Obi-Wan's shyness and Tur's taciturnity, but the silence felt easy and natural, even desirable, as each of them was deeply immersed in his own thoughts.

\- Now, I'm going to check you over to be safe, and then we'll be as ready to proceed as ever, - said Tur briskly after they had finished breakfast and taken care of the dirty dishes.

Obi-Wan recalled Tur mentioning something like this the day before, but then it all seemed so remote that he did not actually think about what exactly Tur meant.

\- Proceed? With... what?

\- If we hope for you to regain your memories, we need to know what is causing this. To do that, I need to look into your mind.

\- What do you mean? - asked Obi-Wan quickly, the idea suddenly making him uncomfortable.

\- I need to see if there is something blocking your memories from inside.

\- Will you... see my memories? - a trickle of fear slowly but persistently seeped into Obi-Wan's heart.

\- I cannot read your thoughts. Nor see any actual memories, - Tur said softly, almost soothingly. - Only your emotions. If the Force allowed to read thoughts, the Sith would have had no need to torture their prisoners, - Tur's lips curled in a wry bitter grimace. - Sorry for the unpleasant examples. There is nothing to fear. I will only feel the block, if there is one, and try to dissolve it if I can. Alright?

\- Alright, - sighed Obi-Wan resignedly, doing his best to suppress his anxiety and following Tur into the room where he had seen him the second day.

Tur looked satisfied with the readings on the sensorpad but left it on the table instead of storing back into the drawers.

\- Did you have any flashbacks? Any signs of memories returning?

\- No, - Obi-Wan shook his head in frustration. - It's so... close, if you see what I mean. Like it's there in my head but I can't reach anything.

Tur pondered for a moment, the wrinkles on his brow more apparent.

\- Of itself, this cannot tell me anything definite. It could be anything. Trauma, Force influence... psychological damage, even a strong desire to forget. I would have tried to avoid this, wait for your memories to return naturally, but you've already had two episodes. This can be dangerous.

Tur stood up from where he had sat on the bench and paced across the room, as if trying to work out some difficult decision.

\- I know you have no reason to trust me, I'm just a stranger who wants to mess with your mind. But I want to help you and will help you, if you and the Force allow it. I'm telling you this because for this to be safe, you need to relax. To trust me, - Tur crouched down in front of Obi-Wan. - Remember that I won't see your thoughts, just what may be blocking your memory. And even that only if I'm lucky, - he muttered the last sentence under his breath. - I know it's not the best thing to remember right now, but don't forget that if you try to push me out, it will only become painful.

\- It... will hurt?

\- I cannot tell for sure, - sighed Tur. - It's been a long time since I did this last. I was thought to be one of the best at this but this also depends on the block. That, and how strongly you fight me.

A moment passed.

\- Ready? - Tur placed his cool palms on Obi-Wan's temples, and the youth nodded tightly. - Hey. Don't be afraid. I'm only tell you this because it's easier to be ready for the worst and then face the best. Just let go. You have nothing to fear.

The last words were said in half-whisper, and for some reason Obi-Wan felt a wave of sweet impassive indifference wash over him like water flowing to the shore, overtaking his consciousness, but not senses. He tried to suppress his anxiety, stop resisting the gentle flood of external force and concentrate instead on the ever so slight pressure of palms on his temples.

The lines of tangible reality dimmed, blurred, stepping into the background, giving place to something only Tur could see. Obi-Wan's presence in the Force was radiant and pure, calm as a secluded lake, although Tur also could not miss the barely concealed panic at the intrusion. But he could not stop at the surface which contained no trace of anything that could possibly interfere with the boy's memory. He dived deeper, feeling Obi-Wan tense at the discomfort he must have been experiencing. Everything seemed so deceptively still, and it was getting increasingly difficult to move forward as the mind naturally rose against the foreign presence. Tur pressed on, searching desperately, trying to make out the surroundings, now no longer clear but misty and immersed in a shimmering twilight.

And then Tur felt it, saw it in his mind - something that made his blood run cold as his own recollections threatened to overtake him. He pushed them back, forcing himself to look intently at the intangible object in front of him. It looked like an end of a thick rope had been brutally torn off, leaving the uneven strands of threads in disarray. But that alone was not something that disquietened him, heightened his senses. From the middle of the torn end, barely visible and concealed in the shadows was a hair-thin black wire, disappearing, almost dissolving, in the distance. Tur approached closer, to get a better look, but the very air of the imaginary space seemed to have hardened, opposing his every step. He was vaguely aware of Obi-Wan gritting his teeth against the pain, but he pressed on, not able to stop until he could make sure -

A blast of force swept Tur off balance as he fell hard against the durasteel floor, the air knocked out of him. As the blackness dispersed in front of his eyes, Tur saw Obi-Wan curled on the floor, clutching at his right temple, his body wracked with sobs.

\- Obi-Wan! - the older man fell to his knees beside the teen, trying to manoeuvre him on his back. - Obi-Wan, please let me see what it is -

\- No, - Obi-Wan gasped, - leave me alone.

\- Obi-Wan, let me help, - Tur whispered frantically. - Does anything hurt?

\- N-no, I just... no... - the words drowned in the tears flowing freely down his face as Obi-Wan could no longer continue. Awkwardly, his movements rusty and unsure, Tur pulled the sobbing teen into an embrace, ignoring Obi-Wan's feeble attempts to resist and feeling his robe almost instantaneously get soaked.

\- Why? - Obi-Wan's voice came in a hoarse whisper. - Why did you do it? Make me remember this?

\- Remember what?

\- E-everything, - Obi-Wan exhaled, trying to steady his breath. - Why?

\- What is it you remembered? What's wrong? I can't help if I don't know -

\- No! - exclaimed Obi-Wan. - You can't... know...

The teen pulled back out of Tur's arms, scrambling to his feet, and walked steadily to the blank screen which reflected the room like a dark mirror. He crouched in front of it, his hand coming up slowly to reach the thin protective bandage still in place above his right ear. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, as if bracing himself, then opened them again and in one movement, before Tur could stop him, tore off the bandage, uncovering what looked like an ugly fresh burn scar and staring at his reflection.

\- It was real, then, - he whispered under his breath the words Tur could barely catch. - It was real.


End file.
